


The Bones of Society

by KasunySAD, sapphicist



Series: The Ending of it All [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fantasy Violence, Gen, Hooters, crackfic, femboy, femboy hooters - Freeform, kin ball, kinball, schlamp x femboy, zucchini - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24801292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KasunySAD/pseuds/KasunySAD, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicist/pseuds/sapphicist
Summary: I can't help but wonder what this world would be like if we coexisted, if our femboys were free, if our bones were our own in the end. It is for naught as I am only a simple Flesh Puddle, a victim to the Kinballs.
Relationships: lorch clorb fendsheeep
Series: The Ending of it All [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007505
Comments: 24
Kudos: 21





	The Bones of Society

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ibArche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibArche/gifts), [KenkuKry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenkuKry/gifts), [Spaghettoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spaghettoi/gifts).



> this is my yeeter yarker

The travis was hungry for diner so the group let cooper pic a place.

"What I need is a nice cold beer," said Cooper decisively, cutting through the expectant tension that hung heavy in the air, "and no more nagging wife."

“How about femboy hootews owo?” travis aksed. “They have cold beer and no nagging wife uh huh yeah”

“Femboy hooters? I barely know her!,” cooper exclaimed.

“Shut the fuck up,” says Travis.

“Hewwo :3? Suck my nuts uwu” says noah, walkign into the room “whats up gaym ers”

Car son came skidding out of the closet upon hearing the words femboy hooters and nuts so close together, he was ready to leave at that moment.

With all the grace and elegance of a sprinting gazelle on three broken legs, Travis launched himself into Cooper's piece-of-shit no-good useless motherfucking excuse for a car that only the latter had the utter lack of self-respect required to drive; they were prepared for their quest but for the calming presence of Noah and the decidedly less calming presence of Carson's enthusiasm.

-=+=- TIMESKIP :3 TO THE SUPER COOL FEMBOY HOOTERS xD THE BOYS ARE ON THE SUPER COOL JOURNEY TO FEMBOY HOOTERS LOOK AT THEM GO HAHA VROOM CAR TO FEMBOY HOOTERS LOOK AT HOW FAST THE FUCKING CAR IS GOING ZYOOOOOOOM-=+=-

The quadro group appeared at the entrance of The Femboy Hooters with visible joy and excitement.

They park their fucking car, skidding to a halt on the dry, California-esque brand pavement, only stopping in risk of hitting Femboy Hooters and the delicate, dainty, gorgeous, fae-like Femboys inside of the fine dining establishment, only comparable to Mister-A’s in elegance and pure quality.

They went in and immediately were greeted by a femboy “HEWWO!!!!! HOW MAY I BE of service today? :3?!!”

“We require a table right this fucking instant asshat.” Exclaimed Cooper and the Femboy only replied “We actually have no open tables, but there's this one dude who's been here for weeks and sits alone, maybe you can sit with him.”

By the time the four of them had cartwheeled over to the loner's grime-encrusted booth, Carson's worst fears were confirmed - for who should he see marinating in leftover Femboy Hooters' Femonade (patent pending) but well-known business mogul and blackmail victim Jebediah "Schlatt" Schlatticus?

Schlatt barely even looked up from his glass of Femboy Hooters’ Femonade (patent pending) when Travis cartwheeled into his line of sight— “another one, broad, damn cup won’t fill itself,” he grumbled.

“What the fuck schalt,” travis excamed in pure anger and vitriol, “schart i’m not a goddamn Femboy from Femboy Hooters”

“Then what the fuck are you doing, moron, you’re getting in the way of the femboys; OY, BITCH,” he yells with conviction. “ANOTHER FEMBOY HOOTER’S FEMONADE (patent pending),” he continues, calling over his shoulder at an innocent Femboy, standing there, looking nearly other-worldly, looking nearly angelic, in the light of the Femboy Hooter’s lampshades, just trying to do his job.

“wight away siw :3” said a femboy, bringign another dozen Femonades, watching as schlatt drunk them one by one, in a continuous chain of insanity and desire for femboys to cater to his every whim and go uwu (uwu!!).

“Schlatt you haven't uploaded in 2 months, no one has seen you in 5 weeks. We even reported you missing to the police. There was a manhunt for you.” Carson yelled violently like Dumbledore reading from the Goblet of Fire as the group sat down.

"We just wanted to see you happy," Cooper added eventually, although the eldritch sound did not emanate from any visible orifice and accompanied a tide of blood that welled up from under the counter of the fine dining establishment and coursed around his sneakers. “Can you fucking imagine that? The police finding you? The way your face would have lit up? The way you would have leaned back onto your steel witness' chair, arms behind your head and a happy toothy grin on your face, the way you would have kept that smile the entire time the cops were looking through the Missing Persons Register? Expression constantly switching from amusement to the loss of your self-induced solitude at the hands of decorated femboys, to cheap grins at the fact that they found you, only to fall back in nervous happiness that the friends you once poured a glass of Femboy Hooters' Femonade (patent pending) with - before falling into a cycle of blackmail and guilt - was genuinely [sic] with, actually WANTED you?"

Cooper noclips through the floor. “We were fucking ROBBED of that,” every single one of them says at the same time, in much the same manner as that of the Try Not To Laugh video, where Travis is just ever so slightly out of sync with the rest of them.

Schlatt doesn’t grace them with a response; his eyes travel between each of them individually before coming to rest once again on the face of a beautiful, ethereal Femboy; he sighs, “sit down, have a fuckig wemonyade, why don’t you,” he says, and he slams the cup onto the table--it shatters into thousands of peieicees, and the others are rained in the thick sludge of glorious Femonade (patent pending)—“PUT IT ON MY TAB!” he hollers at the femboy, who nods exaggeratedly and bounces into the kitchen.

The others were glad to see their lost friend, but only watched in utter disgust as scharmt continuously swallowed Femonade (patent pending); Cooper decided to call over a Femboy to their table for a Nice Cold Beer; “the names Daniel and I’m not into girls,” the Femboy Femboyed.

The Femboy winks, sly smile gracing his cheeks, as he blushes fruitlessly; “I also can’t leave the porta-potty,” he whispers, his breath barely grazing the glass of Femboy Hooter’s Femonade (patent pending), condensation dripping along the rim of his glass.

Suddenly the roof disappeared from the establishment, and above them in the Californian sky was an alien mothership. As they watched awaiting the lazers of judgement day, instead they received a massive helping of kinballs raining down upon their world.

A blood-chilling inevitability present in the arc of its fall, one of the gargantuan kinballs tumbled into the restaurant and ricocheted towards the boys' grease-smeared table with the shriek of rent metal and the shriek of hired femboys.

Fear visible in their eyes, they watch the kinball descend from the sky and slam into the femboy waiting tables—he dissolved instantly into a stammering, slimy puddle of disgustingly attractive Femboy flesh.

“Pussy!” the Femboy said before immediately losing his bones.

“WHAT THE FUCK” everyone shouted in genuine fear, everyone turned around at the blood-curdling scream of Schramt getting eliminated by one of the Kinball, transforming into a horrific skin puddle as well, his bones were gone.

The Femboy Hooters erupts into chaos, screaming and running ensuing, as they all ignored the fancy script of “Please no running, it scares the Femboys, uwu” written on the taped paper sign on the glass revolving door.

It was too crowded to leave via the door so Noah yeeted Schlamp’s empty glasses of Femonade (patent pending) at the nearby window shattering it allowing for an escape.

Before somersaulting through the window with perfect form to an Olympic-level standard, sadly only witnessed by a gaggle of distressed femboys in various states of bone ownership, Travis collected the loudly swearing remains of Sjclant into a conveniently-sized mason jar produced from the depths of Cooper's hair.

“The kin balls get rid of your bones!” scarnt yelled. Noen of the other’s questioned the knowledge. “We have to get mason to blow the whistle so i can get my bones back!!!!!! Hes a bone mage dont fucking question it”

“Lmao chill out bitchboy” cooper shouted “get to the piece-of-shit no-good useless motherfucking excuse for a car that only i have the utter lack of self-respect required to drive and then we can escape x3”

They ran from the Kinball hot on their trail, Femboys still screaming around them, towards the shitty car, Schært Jar in hand.

As Cooper hopped in the car and put the key in the ignition he noticed something on the windshield…. IT WAS MASON IN A PUDDLE. Mason had come to warn them on the incoming bonepocalypse.

Inches from the puddle lies a whistle, in which the puddle was violently trying to wiggle himself towards. Carson dropped the whistle in the puddle and in one single instant the world erupted into blinding light.

When the light subsided and they opened their eyes up they saw: Firstly Mason and Schlamp with their bones returned, and Secondly the remains of the once great alien ships now in their own inorganic puddles.

Peace has been restored to the universe. The heroes stood, silhouetted in the light of the fading sun, the Femboy Hooters still stood on shaky, cracked ground--a beacon of hope in the smoldering remains of the city. The world was safe from the wrath of the kin balls once and for all.

But, in the darkness of their shadows, glinted a pair of too large eyes. “I will be back, Scat, and I will have my revenge -- the Femboy Hooters and their Femonade (patent pending) will rise again.”

To be continued…


End file.
